


Apology

by ghostburr



Category: American Revolution RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-30 23:22:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10887042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostburr/pseuds/ghostburr
Summary: this is actually just a chapter of something much bigger that i'm working on





	Apology

The roaring fire lit the room in a warm glow as the late afternoon sun died slowly behind the horizon. In an adjoining room, voices laughed and talked amicably; the remnants of a fruitful political meeting. The fire cracked and popped intermittently while a lone figure in the small office stood at a table in front of it.

In his hand, Burr held a newspaper, reading it silently, a look of concern on his face. It had only been published two days ago, but the damage had been done. Aaron absentmindedly wiped a tiny mark of ink off his hand and onto his pants.

He heaved a sigh, helpless, and turned to look out the window to watch the snow begin to fall. A knock at the door at the far end of the room brought him from his thoughts. Upon opening it, he was greeted by the exact man he expected. Right on schedule.

“Hamilton,” He nodded as the small-framed General stood before him, shivering, “What brings you out on an evening such as this?”

“I wished to speak with you about some rather delicate matters.” Another large jolt of cold hit Alexander before he closed his eyes and regained his calm again. Burr toyed with him, standing in the warm glow of the doorway.

“‘Delicate matters’? Whatever could that pertain to?” Burr crossed his arms, and leaned against the door frame.

Hamilton shook again. A gust of wind caused him to stumble slightly, and he re-adjusted the thick scarf around his neck.

“You know to what I am referring” he hissed, his teeth chattering. Burr made a face, pretending confusion.

“I’m certain I do not, General. ‘Delicate matters’…is it about health? Perhaps you need a doctor.” Aaron mused for several seconds, his guest growing more and more frigid.

“Let me in and I will ex-explain myself f-further.” Hamilton’s words came out in stutters, his voice harsh with cold and frustration. Aaron smiled mirthlessly and moved out of the way.

Upon slamming the door, he faced the shivering man in front of him.

“Well? I haven’t got all night, Hamilton. Very busy, you see,” he motioned to the papers on the table in front of him. Some legal writings, some case briefs, some private letters–the documents covered the table like an obsession. Aaron smiled again, his teeth appearing sharper in the dim light.

Hamilton nodded. “That is precisely the delicate matter I wished to talk to you about.”

“Ah, of course,” Aaron could not hide his bitterness. He leaned against the table, arms crossed, expectant.

Alexander removed his own coat and tossed it unceremoniously on an adjacent chair. Exhaling, he began.

“You will have noticed that some of those letters…never mind how they came into your possession…” he frowned and pointedly locked his stare with Burr’s, “…may contain certain…half-truths…”

“… _May_ contain? _Half-_ truths?” Burr raised his voice slightly and widened his eyes. His guest looked at him defiantly and set his jaw.

“Will you let me finish what I have to say, Burr? Or will we be here all night interrupting each other?”

Burr raised a hand, conceding to him the floor, grudgingly. He waited for Hamilton to speak again.

“There are several documents that were… accidentally…published several days ago, in certain newspapers, that may contain libels against your person. Attached to and sanctioned by my name.” Hamilton finished breathlessly, his heart racing. Whether from the residual chill he still felt in the air or nerves, he wasn’t sure.

“General, if this is your definition of an apology, you may leave at once. I haven’t the time for your verbal gymnastics,” Burr responded angrily.

Quickly he picked up a single paper and held it out for Alexander to read. “This–this one calls me a pervert and a degenerate. I have another one here that says I will overthrow the government. And yet others say that in all of our court cases fought together, it was you who carried the brunt of the work and that I merely coasted off your success.”  
When Hamilton refused to take the paper, Burr threw it back down on the table and continued.

“These are not merely 'half-truths’, as you so quaintly put it. These are bold-faced lies. With your blessing.”

Hamilton raised a finger in protest, his anger rising, “Now wait a moment, Colonel. All of those words were not specifically written by me. There are several over-zealous Federalists who may have–”

“–Do not speak to me like I am an idiot, General Hamilton.” Burr cut him off sharply. “These are your words. Your opinions.”

Hamilton turned a deep shade of scarlet. “You cannot blame me for the opinions my fellow Federalists harbor. You cannot blame this all on me.”

“Why did you come here tonight, then?”

Hamilton stood silent for a moment, and bit his lip. He looked at the papers behind Aaron, orange in the dim fire light. Only faintly could he make out the raucous laughter from the party in the other room, and he wondered briefly, naively, why he hadn’t been invited.

Finally, he was beginning to feel warm. Hamilton looked at the floor and then back Burr, staring him down.

“I came here tonight to rectify and dispel some of the things said in those papers.” He finished in one breath. Alexander straightened out his posture instinctively, prepared, as the other man took a step towards him.

“I could issue a challenge tonight–if I so wanted–and would be well within my rights in meeting you with pistols. Do you understand me, General?”

“How dare you threaten me,” Hamilton replied, his voice full of venom. “I came forth to apologize–”

“–What you just said was not an apology. And if it was, it was impotent.” Burr stood his ground, though his thoughts swirled wildly around his head. In front of him the exhausted, slightly graying General swallowed.

“Fine.” Hamilton closed his eyes, remembered all that was on the line. “I concede that the things written in those papers are…”

Aaron stepped closer, trying to quell his shaking anger. Expectant.

“That those things are… inventions. My own inventions.” With a final spectacular blush, Hamilton opened his bright eyes and waited. To his astonishment, Burr’s features softened noticeably.

“Very good. Very good,” Burr nodded, satisfied. He turned back around to face the papers and half-written documents on the table. “That is all I wanted to hear.”

Hamilton felt the next words leave his mouth before he could stop himself. 

“Do not pretend that I came here on your terms, Colonel. I came here to stop you from leaping on a perceived insult and hurling ridiculous challenges at me.”  
Burr turned around again. “What?”

“This was a precautionary measure.”

“Those words of yours are horrible insults, General Hamilton. Many of them simply lies.” Burr looked at his guest, confused. He wondered why the addendum was even necessary. He shook his head.

“Because even though I do not accept literal authorship of those ideas and notions in those papers, in that I did not exactly write them…” Hamilton began, his voice much softer, and his chill returning, “…I would be a liar if I said I did not believe them to be somewhat true, myself.”

Burr threw his head back and let a small, frustrated laugh escape him. “Unbelievable!” He looked back at the man in front of him. “This is not an apology at all!”

“I said that–”

“What in God’s name are you saying, Hamilton?” Burr’s anger returned in full force as the usually confident Hamilton faltered in front of him. Burr picked up another newspaper and held it in front of his face at arm’s length, reading from it.

“'It is widely believed that the immeasurably corrupt COL. BURR, along with his numerous followers and adherents to his policy of wickedness, host revelries in the midnight hours, Satanic in nature–’” The black-eyed man stopped reading, an incredulous smile on his face,“– Satanic in nature?” He threw the paper unceremoniously into the startled hands of Hamilton.

“Explain yourself, Hamilton.” Aaron hissed, his smile fading. “The prose is beneath you.”

Hamilton scanned the paper quickly, his shade of red darkening.

“Did you foster those ideas?” Burr cut in again, before Alexander could respond.

“I must insist–”

“–Answer my question.“

"Fine. Yes. I fostered and wrote that. In a private letter that was not meant to be published.” Hamilton threw the paper back at Burr, who caught it and, without averting his gaze, flung it into the fire.

“I demand an apology. Another one. Now.”

Hamilton clenched his jaw, embarrassed. Still Burr waited. Several seconds of bleak, disturbing silence passed between them before Burr spoke up again.  
“NOW.” His voice rose dangerously in the velvet air. Belying the tense mood, a loud, muffled bark of laughter from the adjacent party rang out. Hamilton knew, instinctively, what he needed to do. He closed his eyes again and stepped forward and grabbed the Aaron’s warm hand, calming him.

“You must assure me that these words will not leave this room,” Alexander began tentatively. In mild shock, Burr looked down at his hand, frowned, and finally nodded.

“Fine. That is fair.”

“Then I concede that those words are fabrications, and that I am sorry they ever found their way into the public’s eye.” Hamilton finished, embarrassed. He opened his eyes and let the hand drop, waiting expectantly.

A moment passed before a small smile found its way to Burr’s mouth. “Better. That was better.”

Hamilton frowned slightly. “Only 'better’? What are you expecting, Burr? You would have me fully humiliated, crawling penitently on my knees–”

“–Yes.” Aaron cut him off. Alexander stared at him, head slightly turned in annoyed confusion. A beat of awkward silence fell between them.

“Excuse me?”

Burr smiled broadly. “Yes. Get on your knees.”

“Colonel Burr, I was being hyperbolic–”

“–Yes, we all know about you penchant for hyperbole, Hamilton. Get on your knees.” Burr repeated, his smile broadening cruelly. “I will not accept anything less. Prove to me you are truly sorry, now.”

For another moment, Hamilton stared at the other man incredulously. Burr raised his eyebrows and motioned to the floor beneath him. A thin coil of embarrassed frustration settled in Hamilton’s stomach while he weighed the two options: drop to his knees or risk a challenge.

Hamilton seethed and dropped to a single knee, his boots scuffing the floor slightly. He looked up Burr expectantly.

“Well?” Hamilton finally spoke up.

“Come closer, General. I need to see your eyes and make sure you mean every word you say.”

Alexander rose to his feet and walked closer to the other man. Dropping to one knee again, he looked up.

“Is this good enough, then?” Hamilton felt his cheeks flush. “Or would you like your guests to come and see how you’ve humbled me? I doubt they would even blink given your reputation.”

Burr’s response was predictably infuriating. “Your secret is as safe as ever.”

At this, Alexander stood up and faced the other man defiantly, mouth slightly agape with silent anger.

“I merely wanted a proper, humble apology, General,” a single hand snaked up Hamilton’s vest and toyed with the white tie around his neck. Burr raised his gaze to the man in front of him, inches away. Feigning innocence, he widened his eyes once again. “Is that so much to ask?”

Hamilton felt himself begin to shake. “You tread in dangerous territory, Burr.”

“I was simply having fun.” Aaron responded lazily, ignoring the threat. He slowly brought his hand from the other man’s tie back down to his side–grazing Hamilton’s abdomen.

“This is how you have fun?”

“I would miss those awful scurrilities, General, to be honest. If they stopped appearing.”

Hamilton closed his eyes and shook his head in disbelief, “I knew coming here was a mistake. Useless, absolutely–”

“–Perhaps if you wrote them for me. And I was the only one who was allowed to read them.” Burr smiled dangerously as the fire cracked on. He scanned the face of the man before him, “I would be a liar if I said that I did not find them…rather amusing, myself. Perhaps tonight is the night for confessions, Hamilton.”

Hamilton steadied his gaze. “I have absolutely nothing to confess. Least of all to you.”

“You and I both know that is patently false.”

“You presume to know my thoughts, now?”

Without averting his stare, Burr reached behind him and brought forth another paper. He pressed it into Hamilton’s chest. “Everyone knows your thoughts, General.”

Hamilton took the paper away from him and tossed it back to the table. “Do not try and humiliate me. You know everything I write is for the good of the nation.”

“My sexual escapades are for the good of the nation?“

Alexander blushed deeply yet again. "I was using that as a metaphor for–”

Burr leaned in closer, and Hamilton could smell the wine on his breath. “So these _are_ your words, then.”

“I already confessed to that, Colonel.”

“Confess more, then.” Aaron breathed his words out as a dare, in an almost inaudible whisper. “Let us marry our knowledge, and see if we both know the same lurid stories.”

Hamilton tried again, weakly. “You made it clear that you were a busy man and did not have the time for me to explain myself. Rather you wanted me to take back my libelous words and leave you alone for the evening.” He motioned to the half-written case briefs. He never came here for this, to be reminded of–

“No, no,” Burr reached out, and in a final act of daring familiarity, toyed with a loose strand of Hamilton’s hair, “If apologies are in order, I have all night.”

“I know what you are doing, Colonel Burr. And this is precisely to what I refer in my letters. This right here.” Hamilton hissed, grabbing the other man’s hand. Burr let out a soft laugh, and backed away.

“I am toying with you, General Hamilton.”

Alexander’s breath quickened. “I came here with one purpose. And I have achieved it.”

“You have no idea what these awful libels of yours do to me, General.” Burr spoke up, slightly louder. “I find it endlessly intriguing, how you seem to know so much about my licentious ways. Endlessly curious.”

Hamilton grabbed the loose fabric of Burr’s sleeve. “You got your apology. Now you will leave me alone.”

“Are you talking to me, or your own thoughts?”

Hamilton let go of the sleeve and stepped backwards, towards the door. He heard the raucous party in waves as he grabbed his jacket and scarf from the chair. With one final, impenetrable glance, Hamilton turned on his heel and fled the small office, the echos of Burr’s laughter following him out the door and back into the blistering cold.

 


End file.
